


Distract Person

by leomundstinyhut



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Have You Noticed Yet I Think It's Cute When Caleb Thinks of Fjord as a Cat, M/M, Replacement Cat Fjord, Short and Sweet and To The Point Baybee!, hair petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 17:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leomundstinyhut/pseuds/leomundstinyhut
Summary: Smiling faintly, Fjord is about to lift his hand to wave Deuce over when suddenly there is a brushing against the back of his head.Fighting his natural instinct to simply swat the thing away, he freezes. After a moment of not losing his cool, he discovers that the brushing is in fact four fingertips, and a quick sideways glance proves that it is not just any fingertips, but Caleb’s.Which is very strange, to say the least.--Caleb gets really focused when he's reading.





	Distract Person

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amaronith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaronith/gifts).



> Heyo!! This was my second piece for the Widofjord Valentine Exchange! Short and sweet... and here for you!
> 
> The prompt was so cute... I couldn't resist picking this one... this is a gift for Amaronith! I had a very fluffy time writing it, I hope you enjoy it, Ama! [throws chocolate your way]

It’s easy, sometimes, to lose yourself in reading.

Fjord assumes so, anyway. He doesn’t tend to do a lot of reading, himself, but Caleb seems to get real involved in it. Every time Fjord sees him bent over the table, cozied up in the back of the wagon, or curled up in a chair with his knees drawn up, he knows not to bother the man. He’d never taken kindly to it, not in the months and months they’d been traveling together now, and Fjord isn’t really lookin’ to be on the receiving end of the ire Jester sometimes found herself getting.

So when Caleb is reading a tome as thick as Fjord’s bicep in one of the booths an hour or so before the inn’s dinner started being served, Fjord makes sure to keep quiet as he slides in beside him.

The others are trickling back in from various shopping trips. They’d agreed to meet back here to get some grub and discuss their next move. Fjord and Caleb had been the ones to elect to stay behind; Caleb because, well, obviously, and Fjord because he’d maybe spent most of his money in the town previous. They weren’t all endless piles of money. He’d footed the bill on a couple of the Ball-Eater repairs and still hadn’t totally recovered from that.

In any case, they’re the only ones here. Fjord gets a spare glance as he sits down, a quick flick of electric blue eyes, before being immediately ignored again as Caleb flips a page in his book. Frumpkin, curled around the wizard’s shoulders, gives a long yawn but doesn’t move either, too placated by the slow drag of Caleb’s absentminded fingernails through his fur.

That’s fine. Fjord knows the drill by now. He makes himself comfortable in the booth, draping an arm across the back and neatly avoiding smushing Frumpkin’s tail against it. Caleb is tucked into his side, but still doesn’t comment, and Fjord takes the opportunity to slump down in the chair. He puts his head somewhat close to the wizard’s shoulder, trying to sneak a peek at whatever Caleb is reading.

If his companion notices, he doesn’t comment, presumably not caring that Fjord is looking down into an indecipherable mess of letters that was either some kinda magic he’d never seen before or a different language. It was kinda funny that Caleb tended to be so protective over what he was reading. It wasn’t as if he or Jester could hope to make heads or tails of this.

A quick glance at the cover shows intricate unfamiliar lettering, and a picture of a man bent over what looks like the exact tome Caleb holds. In the background, someone is creeping into his open window.

 _Weird_. So either a spellbook about… stealth? Or… a romance novel in Zemnian? Fjord frowns to himself thoughtfully as he pulls back to peer around the bar, people watching to pass the time.

At some point Frumpkin unwinds from around Caleb’s shoulder to stretch along the back of the booth, chirping softly in Fjord’s ear before stepping across his arm and leaping to the floor below. The orange tabby rubs once, twice around Fjord’s calves before trotting off the in direction of the door.

Fjord watches the cat go, wrinkling his nose a little. Frumpkin had certainly warmed up to him over the past couple months, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t be around the thing for more than 5 minutes without getting itchier than a bugbear in a swamp. Still, it felt nice to be liked by a cat, in that certain kind of way that it felt nice to be liked by Caleb. Prickly creatures deigning to give you the time of day was somehow more special knowing they weren’t like that with everyone.

It becomes clear why Frumpkin has retreated a moment later; Caduceus enters the inn with a small pouch just as Frumpkin reaches the door.

Fjord watches bemusedly as Caduceus beams down at the cat like he was greeting an old friend. Frumpkin obligingly meows back.

 _Cute._ Smiling faintly, Fjord is about to lift his hand to wave Deuce over when suddenly there is a brushing against the back of his head.

Fighting his natural instinct to simply swat the thing away, he freezes. After a moment of not losing his cool, he discovers that the brushing is in fact four fingertips, and a quick sideways glance proves that it is not just any fingertips, but Caleb’s.

Which is very strange, to say the least.

For his part, Caleb has not looked up from his book. He looks completely at peace, flipping a page casually with his other hand and humming quietly under his breath. Fjord stares, trying to parse together what on the planet was going on, before realizing where he has put his head.

Right where Frumpkin had been before skittering off.

He hasn’t really had the chance to shear his undercut since they got off the boat. Maybe his hair has grown out a little, but as the truth settles in, Fjord supposes that its about the length of a cat’s fur now. Which. Wow. Who would’ve guessed a fuckin’ missed haircut would bring him so much trouble.

 _Shit,_ Fjord thinks, vehemently, frozen into place like Caleb has ice magic in his fingers. He should just say something. He should just say ‘Hey bud, I’m not a cat,’ and Caleb would absolutely stop. _And also probably never speak to you again,_ supplies his mind helpfully.

_Shit._

Caleb drags his nails across Fjord’s scalp, scritching behind his ear like he’s an actual cat. Fjord feels pleasurable tingles go down his spine as he sits completely motionless in place, staring at the seat across from him in the kind of blank way a man trying desperately to think does.

Caduceus chooses that moment to sit down, directly in Fjord’s line of sight. The cleric looks at what’s happening, and Fjord stares, hoping desperately he will say something so Fjord doesn’t have to.

He blinks, once, with his big pink eyes. “Good evening, Mr. Fjord, Mr. Caleb. What a great shopping trip. I hope you had a good day, as well.”

Caleb, predictably, grunts and continues reading without much else. Fjord clears his throat. “Fine,” he replies, and if it breaks a little in the middle, Deuce doesn’t comment. He just gives a look to Caleb’s fingers finding their way to the fuzzy hair under Fjord’s ear, then gives Fjord a big, head-tilting smile.

“Well, how wonderful. It’s so nice to see we’re all getting along.” And he begins to unpack his findings of the day, which includes a singular purple mushroom and a smattering of mismatched cards.

Fjord bugs his eyes out as big as they can go, pleading with his eyes as Deuce holds up the mushroom. He fucking _swears_ Deuce looks directly into his face, sees deep into him, knows all his secrets, much less the panic he’s going through.

 _Please help me,_ Fjord thinks desperately, and Caduceus’ benevolent smile doesn’t even flinch.

“This is a poisonous mushroom. I want you both to know, in case Nott goes digging in my pack again and wants to take something. Don’t let her take this. I’m afraid it would be very unhealthy.”

So he’s going to be no use at all.

Fjord sighs to himself, and slumps a little further, but Caleb isn’t deterred. He pauses in his ministrations every so often, when he gets to a real excitin’ part, Fjord guesses, but starts up again a few minutes later, all kinds of lost in his book.

The problem is, it feels nice.

Fjord has deliberately not looked too hard at the steady, low, thrumming kinda something he’s got goin’ on whenever Caleb speaks to him these days. Better to kinda… ignore it and hope it went away. He’s got other things to deal with. They all do. No room for him to come blundering into Caleb’s path unwelcome and say some things he isn’t even sure how to articulate yet to the smartest person he knows, as appealing as that totally sounds.

But. Well. He isn’t gonna lie to himself and say that Caleb dragging his fingers through Fjord’s hair is something he’s never thought about before. He’s just a man. Caleb’s hands are… nice. Kinda spindly and long-fingered, but dextrous, always working, always doing something so intricate that brings fire or frost or fuckin… flowers to his hands like nothing. There’s a strength in them, even though half the time they’re covered up by bandages or his jacket sleeves.

And they’re nice. They feel nice. Like he might have imagined they would.

Things don’t get better when it comes to their companions.

Yasha and Nott come in together. The former is about as interested in what Fjord and Caleb are doing as she is in ballroom dancing, and instead chats quietly with Caduceus about the flora in the nearby area, which completely steals both of their attentions.

Nott goes to the bar almost immediately, asking _when the food is coming, why it isn’t ready yet, well is there anything made yet, why not, hurry it up, I’ve been shopping all day for gods’ sake!_

Jester comes trouncing in around ten minutes before dinner, and plops down beside Yasha, immediately beginning to spout about the multiple purchases she made.

She, however, does notice Caleb treating Fjord’s head like a particularly fuzzy scratching post. Her eyes catch on his fingers, working smoothly through a curl laid over Fjord’s temple, and she looks directly at Fjord, cocking a brow so high it disappears into her hairline.

Fjord makes a pleading face.

Jester stares for another long moment before propping her chin on both hands, grinning with her little fangs, and flicking her tail. She begins wiggling the eyebrow at Fjord, then makes kissy lips, then clicks her teeth.

Fjord, moritfyingly, feels his face heat up and studiously looks up at the ceiling, especially when Jester whistles low at him. She has the air of someone watching something too good to interrupt, which, wow, thanks.

It’s only when Beau comes barging in 2 minutes before the food is brought out that there’s any kind of reaction that prompts anything.

“Hey guys,” she says, slamming down beside Fjord and crushing him a little into Caleb’s side. “I found a dope barber down the street that can get us all cleaned up. I dunno about you guys, but I’ve had about enough of getting slapped in the face by my own body.” She turns, looks at Fjord, and then looks at Caleb.

Her brows lift.

Fjord stares at her, almost wanting her to not say anything at all. But that’s not Beau. His friend watches the exchange happening, then snorts, eyes beginning to shine. “Hey, Caleb, nice cat. Where’d you pick him up?”

Caleb grunts, not answering.

Beau stares for another moment, ignoring it when Fjord desperately kicks at her under the table, and then bends down.

When she emerges, she has Frumpkin, and in one fell swoop tosses the cat gently over onto Caleb’s book.

Frumpkin puffs up and hisses, scampering right back off the table and away again, but the damage is done.

Caleb’s hand in Fjord’s hair freezes, and the wizard _finally_ looks up, staring at everyone around the table, the retreating form of his cat, and then, slowly, very slowly, down to where Fjord is slumped and pushed against his side.

“Ah,” he says.

“Uh,” Fjord replies, and just like that Caleb’s hand is snatched back.

“Oh, gracious, I am— I apologize,” the wizard splutters, face going red at a rate that’s frankly alarming. He looks very much like he’s going to completely vault over the table.

As funny as that might be to see, Fjord doesn’t think he’d make it, and so quickly sits up, placing his hand on Caleb’s knee under the table. “Uh— it’s fine, Caleb, listen. It didn’t bother me— I mean… it was fine. It was— nice—” He feels Jester’s stare across the table, and begins to stammer himself. “No, I mean. It’s no bother. I, uh, didn’t say anything, so. How could you’ve known. Couldn’t’a known. Real absorbed in your book. There. So. It’s no big deal.”

Caleb is looking anywhere but at him, face so hot Fjord can feel it from this proximity. “How long was I…”

“Uh.” Fjord doesn’t know what the kinder answer is.

“Since I came in,” Caduceus answers cheerfully, peering out the window. “So about an hour ago!”

Fjord feels Caleb sink a little in his seat, and works his jaw. This is… not how he wanted a potentially nice little moment with Caleb to end; if he let it fester, Caleb would make it his absolute prerogative to never let it happen again. Which… if he was being honest with himself, was not at all how he wanted this to go down.

“Caleb,” he says, lowly, and bends closer, trying to give them at least the illusion of privacy. “It’s fine. Really. I… I didn’t move because I didn’t… really… wanna move.” He clears his throat, sternly forcing himself to not look away from Caleb as the wizard very slowly meets eyes with him.

“... Are you certain?”

“Uh… yeah.” Fjord feels his own face going shades darker, a nervous laugh bubbling in his throat before he quashes it. “I mean… it felt nice. So. Frumpkin’s probably got a mighty fine life if he gets that attention all the time. Is all I’m sayin’.”

The look Caleb gives him is strange. It’s not… displeased, anymore, though, which is really all he can ask for. “I see,” is all he says, and he turns back to look at the table, his face still pink but not looking like he’s going to bolt for the exit. “Well. I apologize, nonetheless.”

“No need,” Fjord assures him again, more quietly.

There is silence around the table as everyone looks at him, at _them,_ and Fjord lifts a hand to flip them all off when Nott suddenly reappears at the table.

“The food is _finally_ coming, everyone! Leave it to _me!_ No need to stand, please—” She pauses as she suddenly reads the table, catches everyone staring at the two men. “What. What did I miss? What’s going on?”

Blessedly, no one deigns to tell her, and they eat in companionable silence as Beau begins telling the story about how she definitely got them all discounts at the barber.

 

* * *

 

 

It is later in the night that Fjord finds Caleb again, this time because Caleb seeks him out on his way to his bedroom.

“... Frumpkin is off with Jester in her room right now,” Caleb says quietly, with the stilted voice of someone who has rehearsed something. “I was hoping to read, but I find it rather difficult to concentrate when I do not have something to do with my hands.”

The obvious question hangs in the air, but Fjord doesn’t need to hear it asked.

“Well. Far be it from me to let our wizard go without reading,” he replies, quietly, his heart thumping in his chest.

Caleb gives him a small, bashful smile, and then turns and leads him into the room with a hand on Fjord’s carapace.

Caleb ends up distracted from his reading after all.

Still, it’s not because he has nothing to do with his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at my [twitter](https://twitter.com/leomundstinyhut) and [tumblr!](https://poes.tumblr.com)


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